The Abilene reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1883-1888, 1887-04-21
THE OLD WIFE'S TALE.

A terrible wind, siri Through the vale
And down the road it sweeps,
Hurrying fast, and whirling past
With the maddest bounds and leaps;
II strips the crown OF the hill Of snow
And gathers the spoil in heaps,
And it blows, blows, and goes, goes,
Till the flesh on the body creeps.
When the storm outside is doing its worst
You'd best in shelter stay,
And while tight roof covers your head
Remain there while you may;
but, if you'll not, when John comes home
He'll show you on your way,
For every road around to him
Is clear by night or day.
Dyes, siri Johns my only boy,
Though really not my son;
And if be no mother his,
A mother ~ has none;
But he is near and dear to me,
AS though had been one.
Not twenty years since first he came
Their changing course have run.
A stormy night like this, whenI
The fire sit bending DER,
There came fierce and sudden rap
Upon our cottage door;
But scarcely needed it at first
Amid the shock and f6ar
OF the tempest wild that shook the House,
And swept from sea to shore.
But presently came fainter rap
In the lull Of the wind-storm's spite,
And with It was a mufled cry
That thrilled my heart with fright.
opened the door. A sudden blast
OF wind blew out the light,
And some one staggered YEARLY in
From out the gloomy night.
At first, IL this were woman or man
Was quite beyond my ken;
But shut the door and bolted il,
And lit the light again,
And reused from bed my good man Dick;
And l remember then
The whirring bell Of our eight-day clock
Rang out the hour OF ten.
A woman it proved, with babe in arms
We'll wrapped in cloth and fur;
But, think of it! out on such a night
Not fit for a worthless curl
called on Dick to freshen the fire,
And took the child from her,
While she on yonder settle fell,
And did not move or stir.
held the baby in my arms
1t was a lovely child
And the little darling looked at me,
And crowed and crowed and smiled;
And when it calmly sank to sleep,
While howled the tempest wild,
Thought OF the babe OF Bethlehem,
The Saviour meek and mild.
Dick growled little-'twas his way
At being reused from bed;
And turned and sharply questioned her.
But not word she said.
Face downward, motionless she lay,
Her hands clasped DER her head;
There were four of us that stormy night,
And one OF the four was dead
From whence she came, or why she came,
Through storm-winds driving free,
Wet cold, forlorn, with babe in arms,
Was mystery to me;
For the baby's furs, her linen and lace,
Her silks, sight to see,
Those hands and feet-a lady born
II ever were one, was she.
II was her heart, the doctor said,
When he and the coroner came,
And, by her golden wedding-ring,
She was a married dame.
And when we knew the orphan boy
Was not a child of shame,
We craved to keep him for our own
Dyes! we found her name.
"Grace Oswald" on her handkerchief;
Her linen marked &c. o.;
"John Oswald on the baby clothes
Dear me! how pale you growi
The town-clerk has the things she left,
And that is all 1 know
But are you i'll? Your eyes are wild;
What makes you tremble so!
All, John, you're back. This stranger stoppe
A guide to town to seek;
He seems a stout old man enough
Though now so faint and weak.
And see! he stretches his hand to you,
While tears roll down each cheek
How like their faces Father and son,
II features truth can speak.
lie must not stir from here tonight,
No matter who he be;
For the tempest, with a mighty voice,
Cries over land and sea.
] hear the breakers on the beach
AS they surge there drearily;
And it blows. blows, as il did the night
When John was brought to me.
@7hoM1s Dunn English, IN NJ Y. Independent